


On the shores of River Lethe

by SerahSerah



Series: Fear is for the Weak [1]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Angst, Bathing/Washing, Blowjobs, Bronze-Age therapy could stand some improvement, Crying, Depression, Feelings, Hair Pulling, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, Reunions, Tags to be added, Touch-Starved, Trauma, slight D/s, smut in later chapters, therapeutic gardening, they are building a home together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28603029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerahSerah/pseuds/SerahSerah
Summary: Achilles and Patroclus finally come together again by the shores of the Lethe. But the past has not left them unchanged, and not all wounds can be healed just with kisses.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Hades Video Game)
Series: Fear is for the Weak [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2111415
Comments: 12
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

The fields of Elysium were famed in song and in his life Achilles had never doubted that he would end up there. His whole existence had seemed written out already and all his struggles to defy the fates always doomed to fail. The only thing, the only person, who ever gave him a sliver of hope that things could be different had been taken from him. No, not taken. Sent away. But now, by the most unlikely divine intervention imaginable, he was going back to his fated home of death and to his companion, his partner, his… Patroclus. He had risked it all and just this one time the risk had payed off.

So he found himself standing on an overgrown stone path between fields of silent grass looking at a face he had never thought to see again.

Patroclus looked the same as he had in life, dressed in his simple armor and cloak and holding an unbroken spear. He was staring back at Achilles and neither of them spoke or even moved a muscle. For a moment they were caught in the bright terror that this dream might shatter, the image would fade and leave them both alone again. Alone standing watch in the silence of Elysium, the silence of the house of Hades, the silence of the blood-soaked fields after the battle. But the moment passed and Patroclus, ever the braver of the two, reached out his hand.

“Achilles” he said.

And just like that the spell was broken. Pain shot through Achilles like a spear through the chest and with a wordless shout he launched himself at Patroclus, who caught him easily in an embrace they had shared so many times before. Achilles’ arms found their way around his chest and shoulders just like they always had and he buried his face in the crook of Pat’s neck where it had always belonged. Distantly he heard himself sob his love’s name, but all his senses where at once enveloped and overwhelmed by Pat’s presence, who gripped him back in a bear hug so tight it made his ribs ache. This was it, this was real. No image, no illusion could ever give him this, he knew. This man, who he knew better than his own hands, who he held more naturally than his shield and spear, who had belonged with him since they were boys, was really here and really back in his arms.

They stood like that for a long time, Achilles sobbing and Patroclus clinging to him like he would dissolve again at any second. Behind them the Lethe flowed on and on with an endless faint whisper, the only trace left by all the souls that had thrown themselves into its cloudy depths, seeking forgetfulness of pain.

At last Achilles could bear the silence no longer and drew back just enough to look into Patroclus’ eyes. They were unchanged, at least physically. Untouched by age now he looked not a day older then when they had set out to war together. But there was also no mistaking them for a young man’s eyes.

“It took you long enough,” Patroclus said in his old joking tone, but his voice cracked and broke on the words and Achilles could not catch his breath over all the emotions scrambling over each other in his chest. Tears were still streaming down his face and he knew he must look a mess but at the same time behind his pain there was a joy so enormous it felt like he could never contain it within himself, much less express it in any adequate way.

“I am sorry,” he sobbed and then laughed.

He had wanted to say more, so much more. He had tried to plan out a whole speech, explaining himself, apologizing, begging for forgiveness. The words had sounded very fitting in his head but now they had all but drifted from his mind like so many leaves on the nonexistent breeze.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again and Pat shifted one had against the back of his head, bringing their foreheads together.

“Shhh,” he whispered and just like that, Achilles breathing stilled. “You found me.”

Achilles took a number of calming breaths, breathing in his lovers scent and presence. Nothing in the underworld had smelled like much of anything to him, except for some of the gods, who walked in clouds of sweet unknown flowers, or puffs of sulfur and ash.

But Patroclus smelled like himself, of the oil he put in his hair and the wax he put on his armor and the pure scent of his skin underneath.

That did absolutely nothing for the calmness of his breathing as a sudden rush of desire slammed into him and he surged forward into a hungry kiss, pressing his whole body forward harder, as if desperate to get through the armor to his lover.  
But Patroclus did not answer his surge in kind, instead taking Achilles’ head firmly between both hands, holding him in place and keeping their kiss chaste. Achilles’ mind was fuzzy as his blood sang in answer to feeling those lips against his own, but his body also recognized this gesture. It was what Pat had used to do when Achilles hunger outstripped his own and he had gently taken all that passion and laid it to one side, for now. Not rejected, just saved for later.

And just like he used to, Achilles took a deep breath and centered himself on Pat’s hands on his face and his lips pressed dry and gentle against his own, and his lovely beard ever so slightly scratchy against his own smooth face.

He felt far too hot in his armor and cloak, his heart was hammering with emotions and want and his cock was straining against his perizoma but as they had practiced, he put it all to the side and looked at Patroclus again.

Achilles could clearly see the long aching pain in him, even under the smile he now showed. There was something else there, something Achilles had never seen before. A certain slowness, a calm that went beyond his usual patient nature. ‘Despondent’, Zagreus had said. Maybe that was it.

Achilles drew back a little and looked around. They were standing on a paved path before two elysian gates and the Lethe flowed and whispered all around. There was a tall statue of a Hoplite soldier that Achilles found disturbing.

“What is this place?” He asked.

“This is where I lived. Waited. Few shades come by here, but those that do are often lost. I thought…”

Patroclus broke off and closed his eyes and the pain in his soft voice pierced Achilles too his core. His Pat had been here, all this time. Between the road and that river. The Lethe, river of forgetfulness, flowing along a lost road.

Suddenly Achilles could not bear the place.

His head felt dizzy from emotions, questions and desires. He didn’t know where to begin, except that he wanted to get away from this lonely spot.

“Pat,” he began, and had to cough to steady his voice, “is this the only place you have? Is there not some other spot we could go? Away from the river?”

“You don’t like the Lethe? I find its presence quite soothing. But I suppose there is one other place.”

He stepped back and stroked down Achilles’ arms until he clasped his hands. Achilles looked down at his pale hands in Pat’s brown ones. Real. This was real.

“Come with me,” Pat said and turned, leading Achilles by the hand around the wall of the gates. A small set of stairs led up behind the wall, hugging a cliff and then coming up on a broad shelf that contained a patch of garden in front of a low mud-brick house that stood overgrown with vines and flowers.

Patroclus stopped by the door and looked around.

“When I first came here I felt it. This house was mine. I didn’t want it, but it appears to have remained here since.”

Achilles squeezed his hand and stepped forward to open the door.

The space inside was dusky and quiet. No light came through the shuttered windows and all he had to see by was the glow coming from behind them where they stood in the doorway. They both stepped over the threshold and Pat threw open two of the windows.

Light flooded the place and Achilles could not help but gasp in wonder. The room was not overly large, but furnished as rich as any home they had had in life. The walls were hung with earthshade woven tapestries and the floor was covered in soft rugs. There were Bookshelves there and a fireplace flanked by two klines covered in fabric and cushions. Away to one side was a curtained alcove with a large bed, equally richly cushioned and covered by thick blankets.  
“Pat…” Achilles began and Patroclus came up from behind and wrapped his arms around Achilles’ shoulders.

“I know,” he said into Achilles’ hair. “This is a home for two.”

Achilles took a deep breath to keep from sobbing again. Enough of that.

“Let’s sit down” he said tightly.

Pat led him to one of the klines, sat down and guided him onto his lap, in a way that was so familiar that it did make Achilles sob, ever so quietly. He settled onto Pat’s lap, straddling his legs and rested his weight against Pat’s chest, burying his face into the crook of Pat’s neck again. Pat held him tightly, one hand on his back and the other on the back of his head.

Achilles could not believe they had been separated this long, so naturally did they fall back into their familiar positions and embraces. Pats scent filled his senses again and again his blood stirred. He could not even name all the emotions he was feeling, but that particular one was very familiar. He hummed and started pressing little kisses to Pat’s neck. Pat just sighed.

“Achilles wait,” he said, and Achilles drew back to look at him. “I am sorry my heart. Don’t think I don’t want to. I just…” he faltered a little. Achilles frowned, worried.

“You do not have to apologize for anything Patroclus, please. Tell me what is in your mind right now.”

Patroclus swallowed heavily. “Too much. Too much to even name everything. But I know what you are feeling and I can’t do it. Not yet anyway. I have… not felt that desire in a long time.”

Achilles drew back even further and looked at Pat closely. In life, Achilles had always been the one with the greater urges, the more frequent hunger. But compared to other mortals, Patroclus himself had been considered a very carnal man. This was worrying. Also hard to really consider rationally, because, well. Pat was right there, his hand still on Achilles head and Achilles wanted nothing more than for that grip to tighten like it used to at this point.

He closed his eyes against the image and took a deep breath again.

“What do you mean?” He asked, “you haven’t felt any desire at all?”

Patroclus shrugged. “Not for some years now. It just sort of… faded. Together with most other feelings I had I suppose.”

Fear gripped Achilles again and he took Pats face between his hands. But before he could say anything, Pat continued with another chuckle.

“It was different for you then? I imagine you must have had some entertainment in these years. Your ward, at least, must have been an eager pupil, no?”

Achilles growled. “No!” and then continued on softer, “no, never. The hunger, it plagued me. And the lad did make his advances, as young men do. But I couldn’t. Not without you.” His voice broke again and he growled again to cover it.

Patroclus chuckled. “Peace, Achilles. I jest. You know I do not begrudge any guest you might take to bed.”

“I would only do that if it was our bed, my love,” Achilles whispered.

“You make all these rules for yourself you would never expect others to adhere too. But I don’t mind.” He kissed Achilles gently on the lips. “For I am so glad to have you back, even if I will have to find a way to manage your appetites again.”  
They both laughed. Achilles could be very demanding and while Patroclus teased him for it, they both knew that he also loved it.

Then they grew seriously again and Achilles leaned back into Pat’s embrace. They held each other tight and spoke no more words for the time being. There were many things Achilles wanted to ask, wanted to tell Pat about, but for now, his mind and heart seemed to crowded by thoughts and feelings he had no idea how to express. They had always understood each other without words anyway. So for now they just held on tight, Pat’s iron grip never relenting and Achilles leaning all his weight on his lover.

There would be time for talking, time for kissing and hopefully, time for other things as well. Time for healing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I am feeling very rusty writing wise, but its also nice to be back. But this might take a while, fair warning. Concrit is very welcome by the way! Anything doesn't work? I would love to hear about it.  
> If you want to tell me over on twitter (or yell with me about the hot people of the underworld) find me: @SerahSerah10


	2. Chapter 2

Time flowed differently in the realms of Hades, Achilles knew this, and yet he was surprised at how fast a day (or night) could pass. He had sat with Pat on the kline until Pat said his legs were falling asleep. They had stripped out of their armor then and gone to bed. Achilles entire body had burned with his want, but nothing could have made him disturb the peace he saw on Pat’s face when he finally drifted off to sleep. Nothing, that is, until he remembered his obligations.

He felt the call to his shift at the house of Hades like a faint tugging at the back of his mind at first. Nothing he couldn’t have ignored. But he had sworn an oath to guard the house of the dead. And yet waking Pat to tell him he had to go was one of the hardest things he ever had to do.

Gently he kissed his lover’s face and stroked his head until he blinked open his eyes. At once when he saw Achilles he smiled and Achilles thought his heart might break.  
“Good morning Pat,” he whispered.

“Hm, morning,” Pat mumbled.

They kissed then, deeper than they had the night before. Pat started it, moving his lips gently over Achilles’ own until he opened up for him and their tongues slid together, stroking each other. Achilles moaned into the kiss as bright sparks ran along the length of his body at the feeling and Pat chuckled.

“Hmm up so early,” he said against his lips and Achilles drew back.

“Pat,” he began. He wasn’t sure how to break the news, but Pat heard it in his tone of voice. He sat up with a start, narrowly avoiding cracking their heads together. His smile vanished and something shuttered behind his eyes.

“Pat I’m sorry,” Achilles said, “I have to leave, just for a little while.”

Patroclus blinked slowly and then turned away, twisting out of their embrace and sitting on the edge of the bed, his back turned. Achilles felt panic wash over him, but at the same time the tug of the Styx became more insistent. He could not be around Patroclus when it took him.

“Pat, please,” he said. “I swore my services to lord Hades and his house. I am its guard, not to mention mentor to young prince Zagreus. I will return to you as soon as my shift is done, I swear it.”

He placed a hand on Pat’s back and felt a faint tremor in his slouched form.

“Alright,” Patroclus said quietly. “I will be waiting.”

“Can I have a kiss goodbye?”

Patroclus sighed, but then did turn around and leaned over to kiss Achilles on the lips. Their eyes met briefly but Achilles found he had to look away.

“Please don’t stay by the Lethe too long,” he said, “I don’t know why, but I don’t like it.”

Patroclus made a noncommittal noise and Achilles felt the tug grow even stronger.

“I love you,” he said and rose from the bed. Pat did not answer and Achilles put on his armor hurriedly. He had already lingered too long and if he stayed any longer he would risk running late. At last fully dressed the opened the door. When he turned around to look back, Pat was still sitting slumped on the bed, looking down at his hands. Achilles barely had a second to even process the image before the Styx dragged him out of the door and down, down to the grim house of the lord of the dead.

Never before had his time guarding the house of Hades felt as tedious as this. On a usual day he would stand at his post, watch the shades and listen to their chatter, occasionally chat with other denizens of the house and otherwise just zone out until he was relieved from duty for the day. Today he could do nothing of the sort.

He knew he had things to think about, but his mind could not manifest a single clear thought. His head felt full too bursting, his heart ached with the image of Patroclus slumped on the bed, his groin ached with the memory of his lover lying in his arms, his hand ached with the death grip he now held on his spear. Around him the house hustled and bustled and he held fast, watching but not seeing anything of the goings-on.

He had Patroclus back. He had seen him, had touched him, had heard his voice. He was alive. Well no, not alive of course, but well. They had a place together. Standing here in his usual spot again it seemed almost unreal. No, not almost. The more he thought about it and examined his feelings the less real it felt. The less real anything felt. He remembered the last time he had seen Patroclus, the last time he had held him, he had been so cold…

“Achilles,” a stern voice said close by and with a snap, Achilles righted himself and opened his eyes. Before him hovered Thanatos, Death himself, with an unusual look of concern on his otherwise impassive face.

“Apologies, O Death,” Achilles mumbled, finding his mouth utterly dry.

“I understand that Zagreus amended your contract. You are now able to return to your partner in elysium, are you not?”

“I am, lord.”

“And yet you seem perturbed,” Death said.

“No!” Achilles answered quickly. “Please do not think me ungrateful. I merely… have a lot to think about.”

“Hm,” Thanatos said, “he has not drunk from the Lethe, has he?”

Achilles found it hard to breathe. “No? I don’t think so. I mean… can I ask you a question, O Death?”

Thanatos gestured for him to continue.

“He has not drunk of it, I don’t think. He does not seem to have… forgotten. But he says he spent all his days sitting by the river and he has lost… something. The energy he had, some of his spark? I can put it no plainer. Does the Lethe take more than just memories?”

Thanatos looked at Achilles intently for a while and Achilles found it hard to hold his gaze.

“Shade. Achilles. The Lethe takes nothing the shades do not give it. Your lover, what is he without you? Can you say? If not, don’t blame the river.”

Achilles jaw dropped a little in surprise. Did he… was this true? He took a deep breath.

“Thank you, O Death,” he said and Thanatos cracked a slight smile.

“Rarely do mortal shades thank me, Achilles.”

“But they should. Those of us who got to this realm without your aid know this better than most.”

Thanatos nodded his acknowledgment and Achilles bowed low as he drifted away. He watched him move over to his usual spot overlooking the Styx. He was surprised, and felt guilty for even being surprised, at the thought, but truly? What had Patroclus been doing all this time? Achilles himself had found his purpose in the underworld as a guard and a teacher, but had his love really done nothing but wait for him?

Once upon a time he would have thought this to be only right. What else was either of them to do? They were nothing without each other. But Achilles had found that there were things to do, even when Pat was not there. It was unsettling, but true. In life, he had never thought it possible. It had not been possible. When Pat died, Achilles had been a dead man walking.

Achilles screwed his eyes shut and suppressed a groan at the images threatening to break into his memory again. Deliberately he opened his eyes and focused on the hallway. He had a job here, and he would not be found negligent, even if his mind was swirling around like Charybdis, threatening to swallow him whole and drown him.

His remaining shift felt interminable, but at last it did end. He felt it when his duty released him and he found that just by thinking, he could will himself away, back to Pat’s side. The bustling hall of Hades faded around him and gave way to a familiar hue of green.

He had hoped, he had really hoped, to come out next to Pat in the house, but no. There he was, back in his spot next to the river. He was sitting cross legged and slouched over, picking at blades of grass. Achilles’ eyes burned and he knelt down beside his love, wrapped his arms around him and just held him. Pat huffed when he felt Achilles touch him, but said nothing.

“Will you come back to the house with me my love?” Achilles asked after a long silence.

Pat did not answer but allowed Achilles to lead him up the steps and into their house again. The shutters of the windows were all open, which was a good sign. Pat must have opened them at least. Still Achilles felt guilt burn his heart and his eyes, his throat closing around the feeling.

“Pat, can we speak?”

“Huh?” Pat asked dumbly, clearly pulled out of his thoughts. “Of course.”

Achilles took him by the hand and led him back to the kline. But now he sat them both down side by side so they could talk. Pat was holding his hand in an iron grip that was nearly painful, but Achilles would not have stopped him doing that for all the gems in the underworld.

“Pat, what did you do in the time we were separated?”

Patroclus tilted his head and Achilles could see clearly that he had a funny quip on the tip of his tongue, but then decided against it.

“Nothing, really.”

Achilles had to squeeze his eyes shut to stop his tears. This was not the time for them. “Pat, this can’t continue. You need to find things to do when I am not around. You can’t keep living like this.”

Now Patroclus did laugh. “Truly? You are going to tell me that I need to find my own purpose? You who considered your life forfeit the moment I was no longer in it?”

Achilles had rarely seen his love angry, but now Pat’s expression was dark and his voice broke on the words.

“Patroclus,” Achilles said softly, “Patroclus.”

Pats face softened and he sighed, looking down at their hands. “What am I to do without you Achilles? For as long as I have been myself, all I did, all I had, all I wanted was you. For all my life you shone so bright, how was I to see anything else? You are my sun, in life and in death.”

Achilles nodded. “I know. I feel the same way about you. When you were gone…” His voice failed him and he could not go on.

Patroclus reached out with his free hand and laid it on the back of Achilles head. Achilles couldn’t help but let out a sob, but would not give up now. He struggled to regain his voice. He knew it sounded wrecked and unsteady, but he charged ahead.

“All my life you have taken care of me. Always. There was no me without you. But we can’t go on like this. We are together now. For eternity, Patroclus. Please.”  
“What would you have me do? You have your station in the house, but what am I to do? Fight in the Arena? I will not.”

Achilles pressed a kiss to his brow. “No. I would not have you fight, Patroclus, not anymore. There is more you can do, I am sure of it, and you will find something.”  
“Maybe I should take up gardening then?”

They both laughed, wet and broken though they sounded.

“And if you would indulge me” Achilles said, “will you let me take care of you? Just a little, as far as it pleased you?”

Pat sighed, but smiled a weak smile. “You know I cannot deny you anything Achilles. I never could.”

“Hm.” Achilles rose off the kline and looked around. “Does this home of ours have a bath?”

“You want to bathe me Achilles? You think you could bear it?”

Achilles laughed. “No my love, I think I could not. But I am just looking for supplies. I’d brush and oil your hair, if you’d let me.”

“I won’t say no to that. The bath is outside, behind the house, but that cupboard there has what you need.”

Achilles went over to the cupboard Patroclus pointed at and opened it. He gave a little whistle. There was a selection of soaps, oils and brushes that would have put his fathers baths to shame. He picked out a bottle of oil and a lush bristled brush and went back to Patroclus, who had repositioned himself sideways on the kline with crossed legs.

“Hmm, this brings up memories,” he said as Achilles settled in behind him. “I remember you loved to seduce me like this.”

“I’m not here now to seduce you philtatos,” Achilles said quietly. “I just want to make you feel good. Today I want nothing more than that, and then too hold you and be with you, if you would be with me.”

“Always,” Patroclus whispered and leaned his head forward.

Achilles reached out with his hands first and ran his fingers through Pats dark, thick locks. The feeling of the hair run through his fingers alone made him sigh and when he dug his fingers in to gently scrape his nails over Pat’s scalp, he was rewarded with a tiny little shiver down his lover’s back.

Achilles hummed happily and took up the brush. He started at the ends, carefully working out the tangles and drank in every little shiver and sigh Pat gave under his hands. He leaned in close, taking in his scent and groaned as he felt his blood heat up. He kept brushing with his right hand and smoothed over Pat’s hair with his left and tried not to press his hardening cock against Pat’s back.

Pat hummed low. “It’s alright Achilles. You know you can’t hide yourself from me.”  
Achilles couldn’t help but moan. He buried his nose in Pat's hair and had to take a moment just to breathe. Puffing his breath out made Pat shiver even more and Achilles smiled.

“I’m not hiding my love. But its not my body’s needs we are seeing to today.”

Pat’s breath hitched and his hands tightened were they lay on Achilles' outstretched legs. Achilles resumed his work with the brush and kept going, slow and gentle, as Pat’s hitched breaths turned into quiet little sobs. His shoulders started to shake and Achilles took the sweet-smelling oil and carefully worked it into the ends until they were smooth and silky. Then he laid both the oil and the brush to one side, leaned in close and wrapped both arms around his love and squeezed him tight as his sobs grew louder and his whole body shook.

Patroclus cried and Achilles held him and both were taken up in feeling each other close, as they had never even dared hope to ever feel again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That feel when you set out to write smut but the boys need to to sort themselves out first. That's alright, these two deserve to take their time.  
> Thank you for reading! :)


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning after Achilles had left once again to take up his post at the house, Patroclus remained in bed for a while, lying on his back and staring up at the white ceiling. He hated that he made Achilles feel guilty for leaving to do the very job that allowed them to be together, but he couldn’t help the sick swoop of dread and pain he felt when his lover left his side. And Achilles knew him far too well for any hope of hiding his feelings.

Achilles had not been back for more than a few days, and Patroclus was still reeling. Before he had returned, life (death) had been simple. It was a miserable existence, to be sure. Waiting in a gray, numb state, not feeling much of anything, neither in his body nor his heart. But it had been simple. Just hour after featureless hour watching the Lethe flow, listening to passing shades whisper and listening to his own aimless thoughts. He had taken to speaking them aloud after a while, in the vain attempt to remind himself of his own existence.

All of that had changed when a young godling had sprung up the path towards him, a look of determination on his face and the bracers of a myrmidon on his arms.

Patroclus drew his hands over his face and sat up. There was no denying the facts. From the moment Zagreus had approached him that day, the gray monotony had started to crack. Little by little, feelings had returned to his mind that he had never hoped, or feared, to feel again. And when Achilles came back… it hurt. Everything hurt. Even the joy he felt burned like a brand struck between his ribs, until Achilles left and the gray returned, at once terrible and soothing when it muted all his feelings down again.

Patroclus sighed and swung his legs out of bed. The shutters were still open and the room was bathed in soft greenish light. The home was beautiful, but it still did not feel entirely like it was his. He got up and walked around, stroking his hands over the wall tapestries. They depicted stylized scenes of the past, but Pat had not looked at them too closely. He had expected them to be scenes of war, and he hadn’t dared. But now that he looked…

The tapestry he was touching depicted a beautiful, verdant field of tall swaying grass, dotted with short knotted olive trees and stitched with winding dirt roads. In the grass he found two tiny figures, one pale and one dark, racing each other and laughing. Tears pricked in his eyes and he turned away. That had been a lifetime ago. Several lifetimes.

As he had every morning since Achilles’ return, Pat stepped out of the door to go back down to his spot by the Lethe. But today, something stopped him. He didn’t have to go right away, he thought. He could look around the garden first.

To say it was overgrown was an understatement. The grass in front of the door might have been a lawn once and there used to be flowerbeds along the walls of the house. Now all was a tangle of high grass, weeds and flowers fighting their way through the undergrowth. Vines grew up out of the flowerbeds and almost completely covered all the walls and several of the windows, growing up and over the flat roof.

Underneath all the weeds and vines Patroclus discovered a wooden chest right next to the front door he had never noticed before. He opened it and to his astonishment, it contained a wide variety of blades and tools he only could assume were for gardening. He picked up a sickle blade and marveled at it. Instead of gleaming bronze, it was a dull gray he had never seen before. But its edge was sharp and the wooden handle lay well in his hand.

“Might as well,” he thought, and gave the thorny vine covering the window next to the door a good whack.

At the end of the day (or night) Patroclus was filthy, covered in scratches, plant matter and mud and every single one of his muscles ached like they hadn’t since he first started combat training as a boy. He was standing on the roof with his arms full of vanquished vines when down below a glowing circle appeared, flashed and revealed Achilles, who looked around in surprise. The house had been completely cleared of its overgrowth and the evidence of Pat’s work lay in a high pile next to the path.

Pat couldn’t help but laugh at Achilles’ astonished expression and their eyes met. Pat jumped off the roof and Achilles yelped in alarm. It wasn’t a big drop, but Pat still felt the jolt hard through his sore legs and he stumbled a little as Achilles rushed forward to catch him.

Pat senses some kind of admonishment coming and so instead he pressed himself closer and pressed a hot kiss to Achilles lips. He felt his entire face light up with sensation more intense than anything he had felt for the past eternity and when Achilles gave a surprised little gasp into his mouth, Pat took his chance and pushed his tongue into Achilles’ mouth.

Achilles shivered and to his surprise Pat felt an answering tremor run down his own spine. Feeling his lover close like this, when his entire body was already singing with his exhaustion was setting off sparks all over his body. Before he could get carried away though, Pat drew back and looked at Achilles. He looked dazed, his eyes half closed, his cheeks flushed, his eyelashes fluttering. Patroclus couldn’t help but laugh, even as the ache in his lower body felt like more than just soreness now.

“You are beautiful Achilles,” he said and then laughed again when Achilles squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. He had always been so very responsive to praise, when it came from Pat. He had been responsive to most things coming from Pat, actually. This was going to be interesting.

“I am filthy love,” Pat said, “but maybe I could interest you in joining me in the bath?” He left no doubt in his tone where he wanted this to go.

At that, Achilles drew back a bit further and opened his eyes, looking serious again. For someone with almost no impulse control, Pat thought, Achilles had always been very good at containing his own desires when he worried about Pat.

“I do not require this of you,” Achilles said as steadily as he could manage.

“Require? Ah yes, alas that I am required to lay with the most beautiful man who ever lived, whom I love more than my own eyes,” Pat laughed, and then had to tighten his grip as Achilles’ knees buckled.

“Easy now,” he said and pressed soothing kisses to Achilles burning cheeks. “Cleaning up first, remember?”

Achilles nodded dumbly and Pat extricated himself from his lovers grip to lead him behind the house. Hidden from the path by an unkempt hedge lay a small stone pool that was being continuously fed by a hot spring that came out of a rock.

“This is real water,” Pat explained, “or well, as real as anything here is I suppose.”

Achilles marveled at the little bath. “Of all the wonders of Elysium, I think this one I expected least.”

Pat chuckled and let go of Achilles’ hand to undress. He started with his bracers, cloak and chestpiece and by the time he looked back up, Achilles was standing there slack jawed and with hungry eyes.

“Well, what about you?” Pat said, “I won’t let you into the bath with your clothes on.”

Achilles blinked and then hurriedly started undressing too, fumbling the bindings of his armor. Patroclus had to concede that it was significantly difficult to focus on the more complicated ties of his chiton when Achilles was undressing next to him, revealing smooth, pale skin over dense, lean muscle and a pale trail of hair leading to a downy patch framing his perfect cock, already more than half hard, perking up and twitching even more under the scrutiny.

Pat had to take a deep breath to steady himself as another rush of fresh arousal coursed through his veins. His lover was intensely, almost unbelievably beautiful, everyone knew this. But no one except Patroclus could now see the desire, the need in him, the intense passion that had ruled so much of his life, until the war had all but crushed him. Patroclus shook his head to banish those thoughts. Not today. Today was going to be just about them.

Achilles was shivering and twitching slightly when they approached the bath and together they climbed in, their skin burning hotter than the water where they touched. The bath was not large and it was a bit awkward to arrange their legs together without kicks to sensitive areas, but at last they managed to sit down, side by side on the stones, with their legs tangled.

Achilles was shaking and pressing close and trying to reposition so he could grind against Patroclus legs. His eyes were closed and his flush had spread down his neck and over his chest, from arousal and the heat of the water and Pat knew that he was getting very close to losing control. That thought gave him another sharp jolt, the nerves in his body unused to such arousal but quickly growing accustomed again.

He reached up with one hand and buried it in Achilles’ golden hair and when Achilles pressed his head back against his hand, begging wordlessly, he made a fist and grabbed hold roughly and tightly. Achilles moaned out free and loud and squirmed in Pats grip.

“I see this still works like a charm,” Patroclus growled in that voice Achilles loved and Achilles grew still.

“If you think I am going to let you come in our bathwater, you are sorely mistaken,” Pat said. Achilles had always been a quick shot at the best of times and Pat knew that if he pushed too hard now, it might happen regardless. Some refocusing was in order. He reached out of the bath to where he kept some supplies and grabbed a bar of soap and a washcloth. Still holding Achilles by the hair he gave him both items.

“There you go. See if you can’t get me a little bit cleaner, hm?”

Achilles promptly dropped the soap. They both laughed, though it sounded very breathless and Achilles managed to fish the soap back out with his foot, wrapped it in the cloth and got to work. His hands were gentle, but shaking with desire as he ran both the washcloth and his fingers over Patroclus’ skin. Starting at his neck and chest he slowly worked his way down. Patroclus leaned back and sighed. His groin was throbbing and the feeling of his lovers hands was at once soothing and exciting. Now that the feeling was returning to his body and his heart it seemed like it was Achilles’ hands trailing down now over his legs that were unlocking feelings he had all but forgotten, sensations of heat and want and need so intense he gasped and groaned as Achilles cleaned him.

Achilles was visibly struggling to control himself and Pat smiled. Seeing all that passion contained, just because Pat had told him too, gave him a heady rush of power like little else. He knew he could make Achilles come with a kiss, but to see him whimper and whine and squirm but still obey him was making Pat so hard he could feel his own heartbeat throb in his cock.

At last Achilles deemed him clean enough, or simply ran out of self control and without warning wrapped both his hands around Pat’s cock under the water. The pressure and sudden friction almost made Pat shout and his hips jerked up before he could stop himself. He tightened his grip on Achilles hair and brought his face up to look him in the eye.

Achilles eye’s were blazing with heat and his lips were drawn back into a feral snarl. His entire body was vibrating and his hands tightened on Pat’s cock. Pat growled at him and Achilles bared his teeth. Pat laughed and surged forward, pressing Achilles back and almost overbalancing him. Caught off guard and off balance Achilles let himself be dragged back and then up, as Patroclus half stood, maneuvering Achilles until he sat on the stone rim of the bath.

“What,” Patroclus panted, “did I say about the bathwater?”

Achilles growled and squirmed, too far gone for words.

Pat let go of Achilles hair and sank back down into the water between his legs until his face was level with Achilles straining, weeping cock. Pat took a moment to admire the way it twitched and then, gripping Achilles hips tight to keep him still took him deep into his mouth.

Achilles wailed and his cock jumped hard in Pat’s mouth, hot and heavy and wonderful and he closed his lips around the shaft and gave it a rough suck.

Achilles thrashed, his legs kicking up water and his voice breaking on his moans and hot salt exploded in Pat’s mouth with enough force it almost broke the seal of his lips. But Pat held on and swallowed as fast as he could, riding out his lover’s orgasm as his own body sang in sympathy and he had to cling tight to Achilles hips to keep himself from grabbing his own cock and pulling himself off.

Achilles’ climax kept going and going and Pat pulled off to catch the last few spurts in his hand. Achilles’ breaths were coming so hard he was almost sobbing. Pat smiled up at him and Achilles looked down with an expression stricken with so much unguarded emotion Pat could hardly bear to look at it. He grabbed the washcloth and cleaned himself off and then stood, guiding Achilles to his feet.

He tried to say something gentle, but found that his voice would not obey him. He just gave an inarticulate groan that made Achilles chuckle weakly. Carefully and with wobbly knees they climbed out of the bath and grabbed towels. Achilles started trying to dry Pat off, but his hands were clumsy and shaky and Pat had to laugh.

“This will be easier if we each dry ourselves off my love,” he said.

“Hm, I want to take care of you,” Achilles mumbled. Patroclus could see that he was still down in that head space he sometimes went into when Pat took the lead and Pat was struck by a sudden mixture of love, tenderness and renewed arousal.

“Soon, dear heart, just dry yourself off and come with me,” Pat said and hurriedly scrubbed himself dry. It was not the most thorough bathing he had ever done, but he entirely did not care. If he got any harder he felt like something might break.

Together they hurried back indoors and Pat drew back the curtain to the sleeping alcove. The bed was still unmade, the sheets and blankets crumpled, but that suited him fine. They would have to change them soon anyway. He quickly shoved the mess of blankets and pillows up against the headboard and then sat down, leaning his back against them. He gestured for Achilles to join him.

Achilles climbed onto the bed from the foot end and crawled up between Pats legs, obviously trying to put on a show. Pat chuckled and then sighed when Achilles came all the way up to him and nuzzled into the crook of his neck. The feeling of his breath against Pat’s skin was more intense than he had expected and Pat moaned out loud. Achilles trailed his lips down over Pat’s chest, licking and nipping at his nipples as he went down and then finally settled down between Pat’s legs, lying down flat with his face right above his cock. Then he stopped, and waited until Pat once again wrapped his hair around his fist and pressed his face into his groin.

Achilles moaned against him and Pat gasped for air when he felt Achilles clever tongue start to play along his shaft. Achilles had always been good at this, had always delighted in taking Pat apart with his mouth. He brought both hands up to help, holding on the base of his cock with one and rolling his balls in the other. When Pat cried out again Achilles looked up at him through his long lashed and finally took Pat into his mouth. The heat enveloped him and that tongue kept teasing him, pressing the head of his cock to the roof of Achilles’ mouth.

The sight of him, of those perfect lips stretched around his girth and those lovely eyes blinking slowly up at him was almost too much for Pat. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the headboard with a thud, as Achilles began to suck in earnest, bobbing his head and growling a low, vibrating hum. The heat in Pat’s groin grew and grew and expanded out over his belly and down his thighs and when Achilles fingers found their way around behind his balls and snuck in between his cheeks to press against his hole he let go and all the heat shot into his lover’s mouth, spurts and spurts of it as he shouted his pleasure up at the ceiling.

Pat’s climax went on for what felt like an age and when he finally came down from it, his cock ached and his entire body felt like he had run a race against Achilles himself. He looked down again to see said runner look up at him with a dazed smile, a trickle of his spend running out of the corner of his mouth. Pat groaned at the sight and then groaned again when he Achilles wiped his mouth on his leg.

“I only just bathed!” He protested weakly and Achilles laughed.

“But you are too tired and sated to really be angry with me my love.”

Achilles climbed up until he was lying half on his side and half on Pat’s chest and Pat dragged out enough of a blanket to drape over both of them. They wrapped each other up in their arms under the blanket and just held on. Patroclus felt warm and drained and tired to his bones. He also felt a love and a happiness than seemed to reach out all around him and bathe the entire world in a golden glow.

He felt… alive.


End file.
